


Cracking Ice

by daisygrl



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Spellwell - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisygrl/pseuds/daisygrl
Summary: Sabrina, confused by the implications of her newly-discovered parentage, discovers an object designed to provide insight into the wearer's true nature. Unfortunately, she happens to unleash a vicious Yule demon in the process. Meanwhile, Hilda and Zelda try to prepare for the Solstice feast, and Mary tries to get up the courage to ask Zelda to make their relationship official. What will happen when their Solstice celebration starts to veer widely off course?
Relationships: Ambrose Spellman & Hilda Spellman & Sabrina Spellman & Zelda Spellman, Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	1. Yule Tree

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be structured a little like last year's Solstice episode. We all know the Spellmans can't have a regular holiday. Hope you like it!

“Ho, ho, the mistletoe, hung where you can see…” Hilda hummed to herself while she stirred the gravy in front of her. The scent of cranberry, cardamom and orange zest hung in the air, souvenirs from last night’s baking. Outside, the morning was clear and crisp, the kind of electric cold that made everything seem unnervingly still.

“Hilda, if you are going to insist on playing mortal carols, could you at least play something more appropriate? Carol of the Bells, perhaps? Zelda breezed into the kitchen, turning the volume down on the record player. She crossed the room, pausing in front of the dessert table to study the selection, and popped a brandied cherry into her mouth. Her hair was stuffed into a fur hat, and she was wearing massive sunglasses that covered her face. 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Going somewhere, Zelds?”

“Yes. Sabrina and I are going out to cut down the Yule tree, exactly the way we have done every year for the past decade. Honestly, Hilda. Speaking of - Sabrina! Where are you?”

“Coming, auntie!” Sabrina scampered down the stairs, taming her flyaways with one hand. She looked out the window and pouted. “There’s got to be ten feet of snow out there. Can’t we just go to the grocery store? Better yet, can’t Ambrose go this year?”

Zelda looked at her quizzically, as if she didn’t quite understand the question. “Sabrina. We’ve done this every year since you were six. I don’t see any reason why that should change now that Ambrose is no longer under house arrest. Now, get your coat on and meet me in the garage.” She turned to Hilda and huffed. “Why does everyone seem set on ignoring traditions this year? Just because we no longer worship Satan doesn’t mean we have to forgo _ all  _ of the regular festivities.” As if to prove her point, the turntable suddenly slowed before grinding to a halt. Zelda smiled. “That’s better. I'm going to get the chainsaw.” She glanced at the oven. “And for Sa- Lilith’s sake, don’t overcook the turkey. It’s bad enough Sabrina wouldn’t let us indulge in something a little more interesting this year.”

***

Zelda and Sabrina sat in the hearse, breath fogging up the windshield as Zelda struggled with the ignition.

“One more, that’s it - oh for Satan’s sake!”

“Auntie…”

“I meant Lilith’s!” Finally, the engine roared to life. Zelda peeled out of the driveway, rolling her eyes as the wheels skidded over a particularly stubborn patch of ice. She lit a cigarette and held it out the window, huffing in annoyance.

Sabrina turned to her aunt. “Auntie, is there something you want to talk about?”

Zelda looked at her niece from the corner of her eye, not turning her head completely away from the road. Her lips twitched slightly. “Not really, Sabrina. Perhaps it’s just that certain things are a little different this year.” She smiled tightly. “Not to worry. We can still have our regular Solstice celebration. Satan had nothing to do with most of our Yule traditions, anyhow.” She sounded unsure, as if she was trying to convince herself more so than her niece.

Sabrina smiled. “It doesn’t feel so different to me. As long as you, aunt Hilda and Ambrose are here, it’ll be just like always.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching snowy wheat fields flash by. The pine trees that bordered the farms cast long, sharp shadows, and the sky was unforgivingly clear. Sabrina cleared her throat and shifted in her seat.

Zelda glanced at her niece. “Sabrina?”

Sabrina looked back, brown eyes wide. Her expression tugged at Zelda’s heart. “I’ve been having a bit of a hard time coming to terms with...everything. The fact that my father isn’t who I thought he was. It makes me think -” she sniffed and shook her head. 

Zelda pulled the hearse over by a snowbank, turning to face Sabrina. She studied her face, trying to gage the severity of the situation. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Sabrina shook her head again. “Nothing. It just makes me think that _ I’m _ not who I thought I was. What if I’m...bad? Not like how we follow the Path of Darkness, but really evil?”

Heavy silence hung between them for a moment as Zelda considered how best to answer. It made perfect sense that any anxiety Sabrina had had about her duality would have escalated since her parentage had been revealed.

“To be honest with you, Sabrina, your father had similar reservations.” She put up a hand to silence Sabrina’s grumble of protest. “I know- he wasn’t your biological father. I am just trying to express to you that this isn’t a concern unique to a half-witch. Some of the more progressive witches in the coven, Edward among them, were engaged for decades in an ongoing debate about the relationship between power and “evil,” as you would understand it. In fact, there have been factions that, historically, have advocated for diminishing Satan’s role in our conception of witches’ power.” She chuckled mirthlessly. “These groups have mostly been silenced because their rhetoric was considered blasphemous, heretical. If only I -  _ we _ knew then what we know now.” She looked into the distance, refusing to meet Sabrina’s gaze. When she spoke next, there was a note of finality in her tone. “In any case, power itself doesn’t necessarily equate to consummate evil. It depends on what you choose to do with it.” With that, she turned the key in the ignition once more, sighing with relief when the hearse shuddered to life. 

Sabrina pressed on anyhow. “Isn’t there any way to know, though? To gain some insight into your true nature?”

Zelda pinched the bridge of her nose. A beat of silence, and then another. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Enough, Sabrina.”

***

They pulled into the forest, blue shadows curling among the glittering snowdrifts. Snow fell in feathery wisps from low-hanging pine boughs, weighed down by layers of ice. Zelda opened the door of the hearse, immediately sinking into knee-deep snow. “Are you coming?”

Sabrina nodded silently, still clearly irked at having been dismissed. Zelda sighed.

“It’s called a Thyrsos mask. The method you were asking about earlier. Edward had one lying around at some point. It is said to reveal the wearer’s true nature to them once they put it on. But for the love of Lilith, Sabrina, do _not_ go looking for it. Edward only ever tried it on once, and he never let Hilda nor I near it after that. I doubt he even kept it. Now, are you going to come help me cut down this tree?” She revved the chainsaw she had retrieved from the back seat. “Oh, good. It works.”

Sabrina climbed out of the hearse, wincing as snow filled her boots. She pointed to a healthy-looking Fraser fir a few feet to the right. “What about that one? It’s nice and close.”

Zelda peered around the side and nodded. “That’s the one.”


	2. Sugar Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drama is coming, I promise! I'm hoping to update this fic quite a bit before Christmas day, so stay tuned.

The Spellman kitchen was smoky and warm, alive with the sounds and smells of Hilda’s Solstice preparations. She took a mince pie out of the oven, laying it next to a jar of chestnuts that were soaking in spiced, golden honey. Ambrose sat quietly at the kitchen table, leafing through the pages of an old book as he sipped on mulled cider. Garlands of ivy, pine and holly adorned every possible surface, climbing up and down the banisters and winding around the ledges of windows. Dozens of candles flickered throughout the mortuary, bathing every room in a soft, golden glow. Their home was the coziest possible place to be during the holidays, and Hilda took pride in that. This year more than any other had been a chance for her to demonstrate her prowess in her particular magical specialties. Previous Yule celebrations had been marked by Zelda’s dogged insistence on sticking to scripture. This year, it was Hilda’s turn to take the lead. 

She hadn’t wanted to admit this out loud to her sister, knowing the transition had been difficult for her, but Hilda had been relieved when Satan’s true nature had been revealed. She had had the most difficult time of any of her siblings in accepting certain Satanic rituals and traditions. Even Edward, ever the black sheep within the Church of Night, hadn’t had any trouble signing the book and pledging his undying servitude to the old goat. Hilda had had reservations that none of her family members had ever bothered to understand. No one until Sabrina, of course, who happened to share those same doubts and with whom Hilda had been more than happy to share her own. 

“Just a little...that’s it…” The last cherry was the toughest one to place, and she almost had it. She knit her eyebrows together, almost pleased with her creation but not allowing herself to celebrate her success quite yet. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, startling her and causing a dollop of buttercream to fall onto the table. “Shi- Ambrose, love, would you mind?”

Ambrose looked on, amused at the scene unfolding in front of him. “Sure, auntie.” He grabbed another cherry off the cake and popped into his mouth, flashing a grin at an exasperated Hilda as he made his way to the door. He opened it to find Mary Wardwell, who stood there, shivering, arm extended as if to ring the doorbell again. 

“Mary! Happy Solstice - aunt Zee isn’t here at the moment, but you’re welcome to come into the kitchen and wait for her. Aunt Hilda and I are just making dessert.” He stepped aside so that Mary could make her way in. She shook out her curls, sending flurries of snow careening in every direction, and pulled Ambrose into a hug.

“Happy Solstice, Ambrose. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. Do you know when she’ll be -”

“Mary!” Hilda came out of the kitchen and shot Ambrose a glare. “ _ I’m  _ making dessert, this one’s just sitting around. Come in, make yourself at home. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Mary shrugged off her wool scarf and stuffed it into her jacket sleeve. It seemed that she had no choice but to remain at the mortuary until her girlfriend got home.  _ Not a girlfriend yet _ , she reminded herself silently. She had actually planned on asking Zelda whether or not she was ready to make things official at the Solstice feast. Unfortunately, the redheaded witch hadn’t made figuring things out between them a simple task. She blew hot and cold, and these past few weeks had been especially confusing. Judging by the students in her sophomore English class and the various new dating terms they used, she and Zelda were still in the “talking” phase of their relationship. Even though they had had dinner together at least a dozen times and spent the night at one another’s houses on at least a weekly basis. Today, Mary was determined to rectify the vagueness of their relationship status once and for all. So she had marched over, ready to pull Zelda into the living room and figure things out. The fact that the witch was nowhere to be found had, of course, thrown a wrench into those plans. She wasn’t so sure if she could strike up the nerve later on. Perhaps Hilda would be willing to share a little of the sweet liqueur she smelled hanging in the air.

As if on cue, Hilda stuck her head out from the kitchen, a cloud of flour hovering around her blonde curls like a halo. “Well, come in, then! Would you like tea? Or perhaps something stronger?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Mary laughed. Hilda had become a friend, even a confidante, in the months since Mary and Zelda had begun getting to know one another. It was almost like having a sister of her own; something that Mary, an only child, had never experienced. 

“Perhaps something a tad stronger would be nice,” she agreed. She followed Hilda into the kitchen and sat at the table opposite Ambrose. “May I ask, Hilda, how your celebrations are working this year? I know your faith underwent some...restructuring, and I must say, I’m intrigued by your decorations. They are reminiscent of a traditional Yule feast more so than anything else.”

Hilda smiled and nodded in agreement. “That’s right. This year we’ve omitted some of the more...Satanic aspects of our rituals in favour of more traditional witchcraft. With a greater focus on nature, if you will.” She stirred a fistful of cloves into the mulled wine, staring at it thoughtfully as she stirred. “It seemed like a good place to start. I’ve always been drawn to herb work and kitchen witchery myself. In any case, the evergreen, candles, and especially the herbs and spices I’ve incorporated into the menu this year are meant to reflect that.” She held the wooden spoon to her lips, sipped it carefully, and tossed the spoon into the sink. “Perfect.”

Mary silently accepted the cup of wine that was offered to her. “Is there anything I can help the two of you with while I wait for Zelda and Sabrina to return from wherever they are?” 

Hilda chuckled. “Of course, love. They should be back in an hour or so. They’re on the hunt for a Yule tree in that pine forest off of Highway 6, at the moment. Zelda insists on doing it every year. For now, perhaps you could roll out the sugar cookie dough, eh? I’ve got some cookie cutters here somewhere…” She rummaged in the drawers for a moment before producing a pine tree and a candy cane. She handed them to Mary, who accepted them and rolled up her sleeves to get to work. For a few minutes, the two of them worked in comfortable silence, the only sound being Ambrose’s fingers skimming the pages of his book. At one point, Mary cleared her throat, which caused Hilda to look up in surprise.

“Are you alright, Mary? You seem a little quiet today."

Mary shrugged. “I’m fine. It’s just that…” She trailed off, rolling a smidgen of dough between her fingers. “You know what? Never mind. I’m almost positive it’s nothing.” 

Hilda tilted her head. “That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

Mary looked up, her blue eyes huge and sad. She rushed to get everything out at once, as if she expected to get interrupted. “For the most part, things  _ are _ going well between Zelda and I. She came over a couple of nights ago, and we had a wonderful time. It’s just that for the last few weeks, I’ve noticed that she’s been even more guarded than usual. She won’t talk about herself at all, and when pressed, she becomes irritable.” 

Hilda chuckeld. “That’s just Zelds being Zelds. Guarded is her on a good day, trust me.”

Mary shook her head. “I’m not so sure. I get the sense that there are things under the surface. Things she should talk about, but refuses to for some reason.”

The two women looked at one another for a moment. Finally, Hilda sighed. “Unfortunately, that is extremely typical of my sister. I’ve never known her to willingly open up to anyone. My advice would be to just be honest with her. I don’t think tackling the issue head on would work out too well for me, but maybe you would get through to her.”

Mary opened her mouth to ask her what exactly she meant by that, only to be interrupted by the sound of tires screeching into the driveway.


	3. Brandy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Zelda seems like she is being unnecessarily insensitive towards Mary in this chapter. As is often the case with our Zee, there are reasons (mostly having to do with her 19837379 insecurities) that I will explore in the next few installments.

“We’re home! Can one or both of you come help us with the tree?” Zelda’s voice rang out in the dimly lit hallway. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her hair was frozen into thick, wiry strands. Mary wandered out from the kitchen, locking eyes with Zelda and causing the witch’s cheeks to turn an even brighter shade of red. Zelda coughed and sputtered. “Mary? The feast isn’t until tomorrow.”

Mary smiled. “Surprise!” She walked briskly over to where the witch was standing, took her by the hand, and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek. Zelda craned her neck toward the kitchen, and, satisfied that no one was looking at them, nodded her head towards the living room.

Once they were safely out of sight of her family members, Zelda turned to face Mary and took both of her hands in her own. “Please don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here? I don’t remember making plans to see one another before the Solstice.” 

Mary smiled and came closer, laying her head on Zelda’s shoulder. Her thick hair brushed against Zelda’s face, making her want to sneeze. “We didn't. I just missed you.” Zelda pulled away slightly, ignoring the look of hurt on Mary’s face. She walked over to the couch, bending to pick up the thick wool blanket that lay folded in the basket underneath the coffee table. She motioned for Mary to sit and offered it to her, taking care not to meet her gaze.

“Would you mind waiting here for a moment? I’m going to make sure Sabrina and Ambrose are doing alright out there.” Assuming Mary’s silence to be quiet concurrence, Zelda backed out of the room and into the hallway, where Hilda was waiting. She took Hilda by the wrist and led her into the kitchen.

“Hilda -”

Hilda held up a hand to stop her. “No, Zelda. I’m not having it this time.” She lowered her voice. “Mary is here to spend time with you, and you’re behaving like a prey animal trapped in a snare!” She whispered harshly. She looked around, making sure no one was around to hear what they were saying. “I mean it, Zelds. Pull yourself together. She is an absolute sweetheart, and you have  _ nothing _ to lose by giving this a fair shot.”

Zelda opened her mouth as if to protest, but closed it just as quickly. She tilted her chin up and cleared her throat. The look on her face was mildly concerning; it flickered a little before settling on a combination of defeat and defiance. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Hilda smiled, relieved that Zelda seemed to have seen the light. “Excellent. Now, get out there and woo her! Take these.” She shoved some roasted chestnuts and a bottle of brandy into Zelda’s arms, topping it off with two crystal glasses. Satisfied with her work, she sent her on her way, shaking her head to herself.

*** 

Sabrina and Ambrose had managed to drag the tree into the living room, and were aggressively adorning it with thousands of lights and cutesy decorations as if to spite their aunt, who was watching them from the couch, unamused. 

“Does it really have to be covered with so many deer and snowflakes? Perhaps you could add a pentagram or two, just for old times’ sake?” Zelda and Mary were snuggling under the blanket on the couch, and Zelda couldn’t help offering suggestions to her niece and nephew every once in a while. A huge fire roared in the fireplace, and the brandy glasses she had brought out had been filled and refilled. The amber liquid had slowly worked its way to her fingertips and her face, and she felt herself buzz with contented energy.

Sabrina turned to face her aunt, an exasperated look on her face. She had pine needles sticking out of her hair, and a streak of sap on her sweater. Both were souvenirs from her struggle with the tree, which she and Ambrose had fought with for most of the afternoon. It still appeared lopsided, tilted at a dangerous angle that put it at risk of becoming kindling. “I don’t know, aunt Zee. Maybe you could make some changes if it’s not looking the way you want it to.”

Zelda shrugged and smirked. “Fair enough.” She turned towards Mary, who had fallen asleep on her shoulder, and stroked her hair. Her voice was gentle when she spoke. “My love, it’s barely dark outside, and Hilda wants to play cards later on.” Mary shifted and yawned, groaning slightly in annoyance at having been woken up. “Alright. I’m awake.”

Seeing that her aunt was distracted, Sabrina shot a look at Ambrose, nodding toward the staircase. He cocked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. _ Let’s go _ , she mouthed. He looked at her quizzically and then back toward the tree, weighing his options. Finally, his curiosity won out. He rolled his eyes and faked a yawn.

“I think we’re done for the night anyhow, auntie. The tree looks pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself.” He took a step back in a show of admiring their handiwork. Satisfied, he collected his robe and his book. “I think we’re going to head upstairs for the rest of the evening.”

Zelda narrowed her eyes. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to question their abandonment of a clearly unfinished tree. Finally, she shrugged, deciding that an inquisition wasn’t worth her effort. “Alright. Maybe you can add some of our regular ornaments tomorrow morning.” She snapped her fingers, and the needle on the turntable fell onto an Elvis record that was sitting inside of the case. The first scratchy notes began to play, squeaking and popping because of the dust.

With that, Sabrina turned to leave the room, Ambrose trailing wordlessly behind her.


	4. Candy Canes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

“They are really cute together, aren’t they? I’m happy for aunt Zee.” Sabrina sat on the edge of Ambrose’s bed, picking absentmindedly at a loose thread in her sweater in order to avoiding eye contact with Ambrose, whose gaze she felt searing into the side of her head. After a moment of silence she looked up.

“They’re good for one another,” Ambrose agreed. “It’s nice to see her with someone like Mary.”

Sabrina made a face. “You mean someone who treats her with respect, and doesn’t turn her into a zombie the moment she’s away from her family? It’s definitely refreshing. I actually really like Ms. Wardwell. She’s sweet, but she’s no doormat. I have her for English this year, and I swear to Lilith, the jocks in my class that normally give teachers a hard time are  _ terrified _ of her. Or maybe they’re terrified of disappointing her. And it’s not because of Lilith, either. She’s always been like that.” She stared thoughtfully down at her shirt, diligently enlarging the hole that had appeared in the stitching.

Ambrose stood from his desk chair and walked over to where Sabrina was sitting. “I have a feeling that there’s something else on your mind, cousin.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and sat down next to her.

Sabrina looked down and sniffed. “You’re right.” She floundered for a moment, trying to figure out how best to let Ambrose in on what she was thinking. The key would be to do so without giving so much away that he would refuse to get involved. It was a delicate dance; one that she had just about perfected with all of her family members. “I’m just wondering about my dad and his stuff. Aunt Zee told me that he was asking a lot of the same questions as me about identity, the relationship between evil and power...stuff like that. I was hoping to look through his things and get more of a sense of what he was thinking about.”

Ambrose nodded slightly. “You mean a journal or a diary of some kind?” Sabrina nodded. Ambrose paused for a moment and tilted his head to one side. “You know, I believe that all of your father’s journals are still housed at the academy, along with some of his more valuable items. They’re in one of the storage vaults on the third floor. You should ask aunt Zee to take you next time you’re both in - if she’s not too busy flirting with Mary, that is.” He chuckled to himself.

Suddenly, Sabrina sprang up. “I will  _ definitely _ do that. I’ll ask her tomorrow after the Solstice feast.” She stretched and yawned. “I should head to bed though, it’s getting late. Come on, Salem!” 

Her familiar scampered after Sabrina, whose footsteps were already echoing on the spiral staircase. At the last moment, he took a look around and gave an apologetic meow, as if to mitigate her strange behaviour, Ambrose raised an eyebrow. It was only 7 o'clock - definitely too early for Sabrina to be thinking about going to sleep. It wasn’t a good sign.

***

“I have to fold,” Hilda sighed, laying her cards on the table. “Shall we treat this as the final round?”

The three women sat on the floor by the coffee table, a pile of buttons, candy canes and cigarettes teetering in a stack between them. Several glasses of wine and brandy had made their way into each of them, and the mood was getting increasingly slaphappy and dazed as the night went on.

Zelda nodded. “Alright. I’ve got a straight flush,” she said, smiling proudly as she displayed her hand. Hilda snorted, and she hiccuped in annoyance. “Shush, Hildie.”

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Someone was going to have to say it,” she drawled, causing Mary’s cheeks to turn an even deeper shade of scarlet. With all eyes on her, she displayed her cards, which brought on a chorus of groans and huffs.

“A royal flush. Well done, Mary.” Zelda leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

Mary was feeling particularly bold. Dizzy from the wine, the heat of the fire, and the company of two women she had grown very fond of, she looked up and caught Zelda’s eye.  _ It’s time _ , she thought.

The possibility of rejection had had her paralyzed for weeks. She had put off asking for as long as she could because of it. It was slightly easier to live with the unknown than it was to consider a hard “no.” At least the idea of “yes” was alive as long as she lacked the nerve to pose the question. Finally, though, it had become unbearable. She found herself to be shackled in a limbo of her own construction, and eventually, she craved the release of certainty so hard she could taste it.

It wasn’t that Zelda was a perfect person. She was often blunt, impatient, frustrated with other people and most often with herself. She carried herself in a peculiar way; it had to do with an inner fragility that she had managed to convince herself was hidden away. She was terrified, more than anything, of anyone realizing that it existed, and her protectiveness over it was so fierce that any breach to her shell made her lash out. Mary wanted herself to be the one to see it. She wanted it to be given to her willingly. After all, she had her own set of demons to reckon with; it wasn’t that Mary was a perfect person, either.

And so, she saw Zelda. That much was certain. And she was sure that Zelda, too, could see her. They had spent enough time together, slept together both literally and figuratively, talked the night away on so many occasions that the more clearly Mary understood the creature smiling expectantly in front of her, the more she realized she had run out of options. It had begun like a small fire of twigs and damp leaves - endlessly smouldering. The thrill of her hand on her thigh, the warmth that flooded her chest when they talked through the details of their work days. These were signs; evidence of a small orange ember buried somewhere deep within the debris. And when the smoke choked her, impossible to ignore, the whole thing had suddenly ignited into a mass of brilliant orange. It had surprised her. And she knew in that instant that she must swallow her fear, pull on her coat and walk over to the mortuary. To be uncertain had no longer been a viable possibility.

She opened her mouth, but words failed her for a moment. She looked into Zelda’s grey eyes. They were gentle, and it gave Mary a sudden shock of courage. She swallowed her fear and continued. “Zelda, I need to ask you something.” She paused, uncomfortably aware that both Hilda and Zelda were now looking at her. “Will you be with me? I mean, could we- ”

Before she could finish, Ambrose ran into the room, breathing heavily. “Aunties, we have a problem. Sabrina isn’t in her room, and she isn’t at the academy, and I have a feeling that you, aunt Zee, might be able to figure out what’s going on.”

***

“Come on, Salem! Just a quick peek and we’ll be out of here.” Sabrina waded through dozens of boxes, piled high in the small room that functioned as her father’s vault. Loose, yellow papers were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, interspersed with various grimoires written in dozens of languages. It smelled like dust and damp stone, and the atmosphere in the room was heavy, tinged with what could only be described as willful neglect.

Sabrina looked down at her familiar. “I can’t believe the aunties and Ambrose never told me about this place. I would have come here sooner.” She felt tears pricking her eyes, and a sudden flash of anger that the information in this room had been deliberately kept from her. “It’s not like they  _ knew _ that he wasn’t my real dad. For all they knew, I was his and there were things in this room that could have been useful to me. Things that could have helped me get to know him better.” She sighed in frustration. “Do you know how sick I am of being lied to all the time?”

She sifted through a couple of boxes, shivering at the damp cold and wincing every so often at the sharp pain of the stone on her skin. _ Should’ve borrowed Theo’s knee pads _ , she thought. Finally, after an hour or so of searching, she happened upon a box. It seemed to vibrate with an ominous energy, escaping in electric zaps that felt like cold needles parading up and down her spine. She shook her head and gripped the lid. “No turning back now.” Salem meowed impatiently, as if to remind her that there was, indeed, a possibility of turning back at any point.

The lid came off with a sharp  _ pop _ . Sabrina peered inside the box. It was lined with dusty purple velvet, and on a small, raised platform lay a wooden theater mask. It was impossible to tell whether the cutout of its mouth was raised up in a smile, or if it was scowling at her.  _ Here goes nothing. Famous last words.  _ She smiled grimly and raised the mask to her face.

Suddenly, everything went black and cold. Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t see. She began to scream. The last sound she heard before she passed out was that of chains scraping on stone, and a horrific stench -  _ animal _ ? - so heavy that it seemed to coat her tongue enveloped her as she fell unconscious.

***

Zelda paced the room, wringing her hands. Her voice was dangerously low when she spoke. “We’ve talked about this Ambrose. For Lilith’s sake!” Pausing for a moment, she pinched the bridge of her nose before continuing. “You know that when Sabrina asks a question, you don’t just  _ answer _ it.” She shot him a cold glare. “You find out why she’s asking it in the first place! And _ then _ you answer it!”

Hilda rushed forward, taking her sister’s arm. “Zelda, can you please sit down? Your blood pressure -”

Zelda shook her off, turning violently on her heel. “My blood pressure is the least of your concerns right now, Hilda! Sabrina has gone to find her father’s things, which means that she is going to discover a particular item that Edward never wanted anyone to find. Especially his sixteen year old daughter! For the love of all that is unholy -” She stopped again. When she found her voice, it was thick with emotion. “It’s my fault. I’m the one who told her about that ridiculous mask. And worst of all, I lied to her about it. I have put it on before. That mask houses a demonic presence, and it should not be worn by anybody, least of all a reckless, callow witch like Sabrina.” She sat down heavily and put her face in her hands. “I need to find that mask. And I need to be the one to go and find her.”

All this time, Mary had been sitting silently in the corner, embarrassed by her admission and guilty for feeling embarrassed, seeing as there were much more pressing issues to consider. At this point, however, she felt she ought to step in. “Zelda, this sounds dangerous. Perhaps it would be helpful if Hilda and Ambrose accompanied you? So that you have backup in case something happens?” Her voice was shrill with worry, and it was getting more and more difficult to conceal the panic in her eyes.

Zelda shook her head. “Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. I’m going alone, and if either of you try to follow me -” she looked pointedly at her sister and nephew, “- that demon will be the least of your worries.” She muttered a short incantation and, ignoring their cries of protest, vanished without so much as a trace of smoke.


End file.
